Shame Shame
by DDVZ
Summary: I'm going to try to start on another fic...bear with me.
1. Chapter 1

_But as you can see  
It's better if I don't know anything.  
Cause you can do it by yourself.  
Just like I used to do in these days.  
Been wondering of what can be.  
And so you're stuck inside my memories._

**Hopes Die Last - Stuck Inside My Head**

I got up from the chair urgently and began to pace back and forth. Pain wrending my heart into pieces, twinges of anger igniting the surface of my brain. My skin began to tingle...all over. My body got really cold, my head got really warm. The fever engulfed me like a shield. A shroud of protection promising death. If only it were that easy...WHY!? Why is it so fucking hard to be a coward!? Why....

My breathing is irregular, and I'm shaking my head, almost twitching every couple of seconds to keep the feelings alive. Without it I slip into emotional numbness. The anger slips away, The sorrow slips away. The joy. It's the easiest thing to feel, but I don't wanna feel it. I don't want to feel it because I know I shouldn't be happy. And besides as soon as the stimulus is gone, I'm right back down to this novel baseline. This wierd state of mind.

I once went completely numb before, but this feeling is different. It's not a complete numb because it has this somber overtone, this gentle piano piece whisping into your body through your pores. Your numb but slightly sad because you'd rather feel. Any sort of feeling is better than nothing at all. At least when you feel, you know that you're alive in some way, in some form. But when you're numb, you have no idea...whether you are or not.

I wish I was in a major episode again. It feels wierd to say, but at least I could look myself in the mirror. Even if I hated what I saw. What I see. I draw my hands down my face again, gently pulling the skin down. The contact feels comforting in the wrong way. Back then...But now...I just feel worse now about not being able to do things, if that makes sense at all...Because now I'm completely liable, I'm in dysthemia now...I should be able to piece together my life. This is the highest I'm ever going to get, I should be making the most of it! But no...

Another flight of thoughts. I can do this, I know I can. It will take a long time, and I'll need a lot of people but I can do this...No I can't. I can't do anything right. And I try to deny it, and I ponder the equation endlessly, adding more and more variables until I finally give up. Because even in my mind, it's just too complicated. It just can't happen. Add it to the woodpile; throw it to the brushfire along with the bible.

I'm still waiting for the chance to burn that goddamn thing. It would be pretty cool, I think. Pretty cool...Yeah, because burning something I don't believe in is really cool...is really hardcore.

I'm pitiful. Half a man...Can't get shit done....GOD!!!!

I just want to throw the chair into the closet door or destroy it on the floor, but then those things will break. And I can't throw it in any other direction, or I'll hit the TV or my window...And so the anger subsides again. Almost instantly. Returning to this numbness.

Mimicking vocal distortions to songs, to try to make myself feel cool. I used to do it in public all the time. Just for a little attention. I wanted someone to say, hey that's really cool what you just did...But no one ever did. It doesn't matter how hard I press my voice, how much I shred my vocal chords. I'll never be cool, and I'll never be any good at it. That's just how it is. Song ideas rushing through me as the rage builds. I've been getting so angry lately, and my breathing gets desperate and ragged. And I grip my head and force mild pressure....I curl my nails right outside, just barely covering my eyes. One day I'll have the courage to claw them out. To claw yours out. I'm shaking and twitching and...god...I feel horrible.

This is when I feel creative. And it always dissipates. And I can never remember it. Never remember just what I created. And the numbness creeps back in.

I want to feel. I want to feel. I want to be in love so badly. Oh, so badly. And I'm whining and complaining like a little bitch. A man isn't supposed to be so weak, but I just can't stand anymore. I just can't bear it anymore.

How is it so easy for other people? It's so hard for me...They say just do this. It's not as easy as you think. And I try, and you just ignore me half of the time. And I'm doing the best I can.

If you try your best, if you give it a chance, you're supposed to get results. But you never do. The emo boy doesn't work. The smart boy doesn't work. The nice boy doesn't work. The average guy doesn't work. You have to have looks for any of those to work. You have to be handsome...winsome. And I'm not. I'm just not. I'm just not.

Is it dysmorphic to look in the mirror and think everything's wrong? The textbooks say it's not, so I guess it isn't....Stupid psych course.

But if I got a chance. If I got happy. Just imagine what I'd look like. If I could follow through with all of my plans. If I could be reliable. My skin would clear up. I would work out. I would bathe regularly. I would get haircuts and shave all the time. Why can't I do that now? Why is it so hard for me to just get up and do those simple things? It doesn't make sense.

I just cleaned out my room. And I hated everything in it. I through it all away. I don't want to remember my past. I want to start anew, and lie and say I was born in 2010.

I want to be free of this nightmare. I've accepted everything. I expected everything. It won't change. It just won't. But why, oh why, can't I be wrong about it? Just this once?

I want to be able to throw away my cutting tools, which are now in plain site for all the world to see...I want to feel another's skin on my skin.

I want to cut your skin off and sew it over mine, I want bathe in your blood and drink it all down, and I want to sleep with your bones every night. Or just one.

It would never bring me satisfaction. I'd always have to get another and then another and then another...Because it wouldn't be real.

God please kill me.

_I was born in a house of glass and silver floors  
There were so many people wearing masks  
One question and the answers I ask_

_ Any where is better than here away from you  
Make me, break me, give me away  
Lie to me, you lied so bad, give me away_

_ What do you say  
Just you and I  
South on the five  
For a couple of days  
You take your car  
I'll take my bag  
You take the wheel  
I'll gather money for gas_

_ I was born to be given away  
Make me break me give me away  
Lie to me you lied so bad give me away_

_ They told me...  
A little boy who had been wearing my face  
Had told me I was born to be given away_

**_From First to Last - Afterbirth_**

_Every day gets worse,  
Locked in a vice, my thoughts perverse  
You must wonder why I look at you that way  
Tonight I'll make my way into your house  
I must; I'm lusting for your body  
Skin looks tight, think I just might have  
To take a bite, but I know one will turn  
To three or four or more my little whore_

_ Tonight, tonight  
She's not alone (can you taste the wicked in the room?)  
Bobbysoxer so pure, so young  
(By morning her soul will be gone.)_

_ I did a beautiful thing,  
Relax baby, that's a good girl  
You're like my work of art  
I can control, I can contort any  
Position that I wish,  
I make my fantasy reality  
Hold still, it will be over soon_

_ I blend with the walls so I won't be seen  
My love, you smell so..  
I took one good look,  
And I followed you home _

**_From First to Last - ...And We All Have a Hell_**

_Oh, mother, is it hard to recognize me now?  
Oh, mother, why can't you recognize me now?  
I said my life time every things fine, but I lied_

_ Little boy  
Little man  
I've lost my name_

_ Heroine, oh Heroine  
Where have you been when I needed you?_

_ Lie to me  
I lied to you...  
I lied, I did_

_ Heroine, oh Heroine  
Where have you been when I needed you?_

**_From First to Last - Heroine_**


	2. Author's Note

Yes...I'm gonna try to start a new fic. I wanted to try and belt out a prologue or chapter or whatever before my inspiration died.

And yes, I was obviously listening to from first to last songs when I wrote this. Sorry they're not heavier. In later chapters, I'll try to pick out better songs. Maybe even throw in a little deathcore for ya. A little darkness dynamite.

if you wanna talk send me a pm. I just got into the habbit of answering those. So you should get a response if you do so. I'd give you my facebook but honestly I never ever go on there. Wtv I gotta work later. bye


	3. Chapter 2 skeleton

afterbirth, some like it cold, butterfly caught

I woke up. My mother was calling to me. I got up, and she left. My head felt like a ton of bricks. I had a splitting migraine and was immediately reminded of how tired work had made me last night. We were busier than we'd ever been. No one had even cared to try to help me but my boss. I hadn't even gotten to drink pop yet, and I started the day in a bad mood. I didn't have Calculus that morning. I'd gotten to wake up later, but I couldn't care less about such a trivial thing as sleep. I didn't have Calculus that day. I was having a bad day at work. Everything I touched slipped through my fingers. Everyone barking orders, always demanding more of my time. It had happened before, but I just couldn't will myself to move fast enough.  
When I'd mustered the strength to counter the overwhelming sorrow, I did naught but trip over my feet as I ran hither and thither, here and there, everywhere...for five hours. Nothing so much as an apology from anyone. Just ignore him like everyone else has always done....he'll go away eventually. I was so enraged, I swore up and down and actually managed to scare the dishwasher into getting me silverware.  
I got up and put on this week's pair of jeans. I'd switched earlier than normal in order to look good for the first week of school. I'd showered and shaved last night. This was my last chance to impress one of them. I didn't have any band t-shirts left, so I took out my lucky one. Norma Jean was scrawled across it as if they were the crumbling shutters of an ancient building. A girl had actually worn this shirt once.  
I'd showered and shaved the night before. This was my last chance. I wasn't feeling hungry, so I just had an orange. I worked in vain to keep the cowlick in my hair down, to put some moisture back into the skin of my hands and face. I actually looked somewhat decent.  
The train was on time today, so I had to wait twenty minutes for it. It was cold, but I didn't mind. As soon as I was settled, I took out my laptop and began to type. I layed out a short conversation, and made multiple revisions.  
I made it to school. I actually succeeded in getting my cowlick to stay down. There was a feeling of hope lingering in my mind. I could do this.  
It was very hot in the building. I had to step outside to cool down and keep from sweating. I walked upstairs to see Carly all by herself, talking into her cell phone. I rarely ever saw her without Sam, so it must have been a private conversation. After greeting her, I immediately felt out of place. I shouldn't be listening to her conversation, but I shouldn't just leave and send the wrong signal either. I decided to just walk around, the thoughts of impending failure gaining strength rapidly in my mind.  
Eventually we got into the room, I picked my seat so as to avoid Jeremy being between us. Carly sat down two seats away, exactly where I needed her to be. Then she decided to move up a row. This was a small room. I couldn't move near her without being completely obvious. Her friends filed in and filled up the middle row, almost completely.  
Sam rushed in, complaining she'd slept in by accident. I was seated behind Carly. She sat beside Carly. Two guys waltzed in and sat next to her. One got a "hey"/  
My hopes were dashed. Class crept forward. I was among the first to finish the quiz. They hung back. I decided to wait downstairs while talking to Tim. They walked straight past, still in a group. My heart shattered into a million pieces.  
I sat at a table and did homework with Jeremy. Everytime the door opened, cold air rushed in. I was already freezing. A sorrow had hit me. I barely got anything done. I walked him to class and then decided to go home. I wanted to slit my throat. I just missed the train home, so I had to wait. By the time I got home, I blasted music.  
It felt as if the heat was being drained through my feet (even though I was wearing shoes). I was so cold. I was so tired. I felt like I used to.  
I took out a tack and made two precise marks. Then two more. Than many. Than I stopped.  
Then I ate too much.  
the end.


	4. Author's Note 2

just a stupid skeleton of my day. I felt really bad today. And I figured why not...

Hopefully when I get a little bit happier or number or something I'll be able to write better...more

it'll be much longer than this, much more fleshed out, filled with emotion, and hopefully much better vocabulary.

i wish i was drunk


End file.
